Broken World Book Two - StarSword (2 page)

When they had
eaten their fill, they gathered fronds into piles and loaded them
into baskets to haul back to the ship. For people who were used to
the toil of planting and reaping crops that then still needed to be
cooked, or raising and guarding animals for slaughter, it was a
dream come true. The beast was so huge that all of their gathering
barely lessened the number of fronds growing in the immediate
area.

Talsy found the
frond tasty and filling, and it left her mouth refreshed, even
better than when she cleaned her teeth with a frayed stick and ash.
When she could eat no more, she wandered to the edge of the beast
and gazed down into the azure depths. The food beast's back rose
mere inches above the water, and she dabbled her fingers in its
pleasant coolness. Wondering how far down the food beast's under
parts extended, she leant over to peer into the depths. Something
massive and streaked with pale beautiful colours shot up from the
deep, its mouth filled with long white teeth. Talsy shrieked and
recoiled, slipped on the silken hide and slid half into the sea.
The creature brushed her submerged legs, and she shrieked again,
certain that she was about to be devoured.

In a second
Kieran was at her side, hauling her from the water by her jacket as
he drew his sword and stabbed it into the beast now just below the
surface. The sea erupted as the creature thrashed, almost jerking
the sword from his hand. Kieran yanked it free and raised it to
stab the creature again. Flocks of flying beasts rose from the food
beast's fronds with shrill keening cries.

Chanter
appeared, as if out of thin air, and grabbed Kieran’s sword arm in
a vice-like hand. With a savage twist, he wrenched the sword from
the warrior's fist, breaking his wrist with a soft crack. Kieran
staggered back, his face twisted with shock and pain. The sword
spun away and plunged into the sea.

Chanter's brows
almost met over blazing eyes, and his mouth was set in a grim line.
Talsy gaped at him, astonished. Kieran backed away, holding his
injured wrist, his gaze never leaving the Mujar's face. His stance,
though a fighting one, held an element of fear that Talsy had never
thought to see in the warrior. Although larger than Chanter and a
deadly fighter, Kieran was afraid of the Mujar. Chanter stopped
advancing on him and relaxed, breathing deeply through flared
nostrils.

He stabbed a
finger at the sea. "That is forbidden."

"It was
attacking the girl." Kieran’s voice shook a little.

"No. Talsy
should have known better than to fear it." He looked at her.
"Explain it to him."

Chanter turned
and dived into the sea, leaving them staring after him. Talsy
frowned in confusion.

Kieran looked
distressed. "What did I do wrong?"

If Chanter's
reaction to Kieran’s attack on the beast from the depths had
shocked her, Kieran’s response to Chanter's anger stunned her. The
warrior seemed devastated, his usually controlled expression filled
with anguish. After a brief struggle, he regained some composure,
although he remained pale. Moved by his distress, she searched for
something soothing to say.

"It'll be all
right. He'll forgive you," she offered.

Kieran shook
his head, rejecting her comfort. "I don't understand."

"You didn't
know."

"Know
what?"

Talsy frowned
and racked her brains for the reason that Chanter had said what he
had. She should have known better than to fear a horrible monster
coming at her from the depths? He had not objected to Truemen
killing animals before, why now? Then it struck her. The animal on
which she stood was a creature of this world. Kieran had injured a
harmless predator that fed on the food beast, a creature from a
perfect world untainted by the savagery of killing, a beast that
was more plant than animal. She groaned. Chanter had led them to a
source of wonderful bounty, trusting them to respect the sanctity
of his gods' children, and Kieran had injured one. Chanter's anger
had been frightening. She stared at Kieran, alarmed.

"What?" he
demanded. "What have I done?"

"You..." She
shook her head, unable to find the words.

He grabbed her
jacket with his good hand. "Tell me!"

Talsy calmed
herself with an effort. Surely Chanter would put it right? Kieran
shook her, and she tried to push him away. "You injured a beast of
this world, you moron! It was harmless!"

"You're not
making sense!"

She shoved him
again, breaking his hold. "Cows and pigs are Truemen beasts, given
to us to kill and eat. The true inhabitants of this world are
creatures like this." She patted a nearby frond. "They don't kill,
they feed on the sun and the sea and the air, like plants. The
beast I thought was attacking me was a predator that lives on the
food beast's fronds. When the gods of this world allowed the
Truemen who came here to live, they hid their creatures so we
wouldn't harm them, and now you have."

Kieran stared
at her, shaking his head. "The gods of this world? What are you
talking about?"

Since Chanter
had told her to explain it to Kieran, she sat down and patted the
space beside her.

Chapter Two

Chanter swam
down into the cool depths, retaining his man form and sweeping the
water with powerful strokes of his arms. The predator's soft
whimpering cries guided him to it, while the food beast's deep
moans of sympathy carried through the water like a giant organ's
deepest note. These creatures lived in harmony, shared the same
language and were guided by the same laws. The food beast shared
the predator's pain and groaned with mammoth anguish. The Truemen
beasts were beautiful and swift, their shapes a pleasure to take
on, but the creatures of this world were as much his brothers as
they were each other's, and had a different kind of enchantment
about them. The magic of the harmless, the wonder of the gentle,
fearless and fragile.

Finding that he
was not catching up with the sinking predator, Chanter took on the
sleek powerful form of a dolphin. He powered downwards, and soon
the predator came into sight, a vaguely ray-shaped beast with vast
filmy wings streaked with the many colours that marked all the
creatures of this world. Others gathered around it, whimpering in
sympathy as the food beast high above gave voice to deep moans.
Reaching it, he changed back to man form and slid his arms around
the silky, bulbous body, filled with joy as a mind-link formed
between them. His rapport with a brother of this world was far
stronger than with any of the engineered beasts given to the Lowmen
savages.

The predator
gave its name in a rush of sweet emotion, a calling so pure and
poignant that no word could contain it. A spasm of its pain swept
through Chanter as it opened its mind to him, then the predator's
concern for his sanity stemmed it. He drifted with it as the blue
depths grew darker, the predator transfixed by the pain. Chanter
rubbed his cheek against its silken skin, caressing its perfect
curves as he sought to gain the knowledge necessary to heal it. His
mind was filled with God-given knowledge about Lowman beasts, so he
could take on their form, but about his kin, whose shape he was
forbidden to wear, he knew almost nothing.

An intricate
pattern ridged the predator's skin, so slight that only his
sensitive fingertips could detect it. The pattern held a key, a
simple repeated convolution that guided the beast's life force
along it like tiny shocks of Crayash, sparkles of power that warmed
its skin and fended off the deep's cold. The wound had disrupted
this circle of warmth, and it leaked away from the torn edges. As
they sank deeper into the dark depths, he was able to discern the
flickering sparkles that travelled over the beast's skin, and
decode the pattern unique to this animal. The creature twitched
with pain that shot through Chanter as well, so closely was he
linked to it now. Sparked by the pain, a million glimmers passed
along the predator's skin and flashed out to the vast wings in a
display of subdued shining beauty that filled in the missing spaces
of gossamer skin so thin they were invisible in the sea.

Invoking
Shissar, he strived to heal the wound that the warrior's black
sword had inflicted, convulsing as he shared the predator's
suffering. The beast's pure emotion rinsed his mind and washed away
the harshness of Lowmen's cruelties, bringing back the blessed
simplicity of this world. The injury healed slowly, not such a
simple thing to cure as Lowmen's flesh, or his own, which mirrored
theirs. The predator's metabolism was alien, reminding him of what
he had lost by becoming so like the Lowmen and their beasts. The
sword had slashed fragile skin and pierced tender flesh, torn a
million gossamer nerves and damaged countless tiny organs.

The wound would
be fatal unless he could heal it. The predator lacked any natural
ability to heal, in a world where nothing should have harmed it.
Sharing its mind, he struggled to put back together the delicate
flesh that was made up of so many complex things. Tiny crystals
that must be aligned in harmony, capillaries that carried sap-like
fluid, vessels that carried blood, little bones that meshed the
skin in the intricate, life-giving pattern. The minute crystals
guided light and warmth from deep within the beast, sending it into
the transparent bones that carried it over the skin.

The sunlight
stored within the predator resided in its giant flu-stone, the
heart of the animal. This was exposed only when it basked to absorb
light and heat, the rest of the time it was kept hidden deep within
the alien flesh to preserve it. The beast's flesh was rooted to it,
grew from it and fed it, a symbiosis of animal, plant and mineral
unique to this world. Lowmen would consider the shining flu-stones
that littered the seabed priceless. Their ability to store light
and heat was a miracle of Nature and the gods' design.

Chanter became
aware that he was succeeding in his effort to heal the predator.
The pain faded from the creature's mind as he reunited the sundered
flesh. A million tiny crystals realigned, drew light and warmth to
the skin, completed the broken circle and warded off the frigid
talons of the ocean's cold. With the pain's cessation and the
return of its warmth and life, a rush of joyful emotion suffused
the predator. It started to swim again, undulating the great wings
that propelled it through the water. Its kin sensed its well-being,
and drifted back to their feeding. It made its way alone, the
graceful sweeps of mammoth wings driving it upwards to the light
and warmth of higher waters. Relaxing his control of Shissar,
Chanter found himself mind-locked with the beast.

Its gentle
psyche had latched onto his with a mind and willpower almost as
powerful as his own, holding him to it for the pleasure of his
company. So much had been erased from his mind that he barely
objected to it. The rush of pure, sweet love ran like a river of
warm joy through him. Deep down, he was aware that this should not
be happening. He had a purpose beyond the call of his own, a goal
that required him to leave this gentle creature and be alone again,
cut off from his true world.

The predator's
great wings propelled it through the depths, heading back to its
feeding ground. The pain had been forgotten, and now there was only
the joy of life, the pleasure of feeding and sharing with others.
The entire ocean was its kin; the water in which it lived was as
much a part of it as its wings. Now it had a new part, a
strangely-shaped but pleasant attachment, of which it was already
growing fond. Chanter fought the tender entrapment, even though he
longed to stay and share the joy and pleasures of this harmless
beast in its liquid domain of soft currents and the gentle swaying
dance of marching swells. The distant song of the sea washed
through him, a balm for all the hurts he had received in the harsh
world above. This oceanic predator, unlike the one he had met in
the Lake of Renewal, had a wordless language comprised of emotions
and ideas passed to its kin through the water. By touching the
beast, he had created a line of communication so strong that it
threatened to trap him.

The predator
shared his mind, learning of his experiences even as it told him of
its gratitude for his help and its wish that he stay with it. There
was something else he had to do, however, a reason to quit the
sweet emotions he shared with this creature of the depths. The
predator sensed his desire to leave, and a wave of sadness came
from it, along with a reluctant weakening of the bond. With a jerk,
he broke the mind-lock and drifted away, swamped with sorrow at the
loss. The bereft predator's keening cut through him with a deep
pain that he shared. The creature flew on with its graceful motion,
long wings sweeping as it drifted higher. Chanter turned and swam
downwards, changing his shape for the sake of speed as he powered
into the deeper darkness with sleek flukes.

On the ocean
floor, he found the black object he searched for and picked it up.
Here it was darker than the blackest night, and he might as well
have been blind for all the good his eyes did him. Yet he knew what
the thing was and sensed it, swam to it and grasped it. He did not
pause to ponder the mystery of this, but headed for the surface.
When the distant glimmer of blue told him that the world of sun and
air was close, he changed his shape again, removing the black thing
from his mouth now that he had hands. He continued to rise, the
world that he was about to enter alien after such close contact
with a denizen of the sea. The dark shape of the food beast hung
above him, and a flotilla of predators glided amongst its many
tendrils, nibbling the submerged fronds.

Talsy looked
around at a splash beside the food beast, and her heart pounded as
Chanter emerged from the sea. He threw something black onto the
shore, then drew in a great breath. As lithe as a seal, he hauled
himself out and flopped down, rolled onto his back and clamped a
hand over his eyes. She glanced at Kieran, who stared at the Mujar
with a mixture of shame and anguish. She crept closer to the
motionless Mujar, but some instinct warned her not to touch him,
and instead she murmured his name.